Death Star explosion Original

Pious Santa, nuff said

   
   "Pious Santa, nuff said"
   
   After contracting cooties from his charitable endeavors, Nikola put away his Father Christmas, though the Father seems the boss, like a Boss 302 birthing life, swift and quick out of the hole, or a Boss 429, happy and protracted on top end, burning beyond rubber on the asphalt runway.
   So, knowing Mars speaks to Spica nowadays, the Heavens seem to be in conference concerning Earth, and while some Earth girls may be easy; on the contrary, there is always a collective counterpoise, which deducts from the contagion of false camouflage, even for the deer hunter, if Saint Hubert remembers an ecological Saint's love and admiration of simple beasts, being noble in themselves.  

Pious Santa, more . . .

   
   "Pious Santa, more . . ."
  
   Nikola would give some charity (love) to the little elves @ the shelter--if they were nice, not nefarious and nasty, like crummy being passed around.  Wondered what Venus told Jupiter when they went face to face a week or so back?  All those women, some virginal, some not, speaking to a mighty man with many moons.  Nikola knew.  And they say nothing happened, but always in the Heavens first.  How the Heavens do their job, and a loner planet out of sync, like a busy junkyard, houses monstrous corruption, save for the bold and bodacious.
   Nikola went to talk to a Serbian Orthodox Priest.  Kinda/sorta difficult to find in Middle TN. these days; however, always was.  The Priest mentioned:  "The Protestants have nobody on the Cross, and they walk away--guilt free.  The Orthodox put a foot rest for Christ, and the agony is not so bad; however, the Catholics torture themselves in brutal passion--all for the better."
   "What does it totally mean?"  Nikola probed.
   The Priest responded:  "Santa deserves to deal in coal @ times.  But his heart can reforge it into diamonds."  

Pious Santa

   
   "Pious Santa"
  
   Down in the damned dirty south, summertime absent, replaced by just a hint of Yankee weather, girls and snuggled blue-jeans in tight strut through the crowded real estate of suburban sprawl, and while not thinking about how to crack the planet Earth in half with chaotic frequency, though it is protected by a Golden Space Dome, more or less, Nikola of Middle TN. was in search of a Serbian Orthodox Church, and though his Pap was Catholic, Nikola loved the idea of Theotokos, knowing a mother will give you her last dollar, him having learned that from a redneck in Arkansas, armed with a V-8 in his carport, Old Glory hanging, kinda bangled.  
   Anyway, this dude of no renown, noticed only for his Proust-like mustache and attempts at dandyism, mimicked Joyce in his diary, or made a brave pursuit in doing so; still, there was none other than his pet sugar-glider, the flying pseudo-hamster always upon his right shoulder, as if a furry parrot that displayed no speech, those frequently picked up vibrations, seen by illogical minds, like tasting colors, and the sugar-glider was named Betsy.
   It was approaching Christmas, on the calendar, and--in the air.  Seemed a bit frosty.  

The Fall Guy Intro

Genuflection

   
   "Genuflection"
  
   This one girl, back @ junior high, yonder thataway--way back then; anyway, she'd overly genuflect, in all scenarios.  @ Mass, which was pretty cool, following the proper protocols for someone schooled in Catholicism; however, she may have even taken her genuflection to the playground, where @ around pubescence, we talked more than acted like zoo animals on the instruments of action.  
   Genuflecting was her super power.  She designed the school logo, one of them, in the seventh grade.  Another girl, an Irish Catholic, got ten Hail Marys or so after Confession.  Everybody was gawking @ her, wondering what she had done to deserve so much prayerful penance.  I knew what she did--she told the truth.  I always liked her, as a sister, ya know.  
   Nothing wrong with back to the future travels.  If you go to the right places.  Even the 1950's.  Like eating @ SONIC, and enjoying the frigid blast of Winter as you roll down the windows, ignite the internal cockpit light, and eat some mildly greasy good times--and always get some onions on your burger, in my opinion.  

Any Which Way You Can - Trailer